


A Very Clouis Christmas

by GoofyGomez



Series: Clouis/Louisentine OneShots [23]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoofyGomez/pseuds/GoofyGomez
Summary: Modern AU where the apocalypse never happened. Clem and Louis, married for ten years, now have two children. Hope and LJ. Hope and Louis wake up early on Christmas morning to make breakfast in bed.





	A Very Clouis Christmas

“Can I open my presents now, daddy?”

Louis heard Hope whisper from beside him, making him chuckle. She had woke him up early that day, the early morning sun barely beginning to bathe the snow-carpeted drive in a warm yellow glow. Small snowflakes fell from the sky, further adding to the beautiful scenery outside. Louis ran a hand through Hope’s curly brown hair and shook his head.

“Not yet, Sunshine,” he told her. When she feigned a pout, he smiled. “I know a real pout when I see one, young lady.”

“C’mon, please?” she insisted as they walked into the kitchen. The dishes from last night’s Christmas dinner were still in the sink, LJ’s leftover chunks of food on the top one. _Will he ever eat a full meal?_ Louis wondered.

“First we make mom and LJ some breakfast like we agreed,” he said to his daughter, kneeling. “Then, we can work on those presents as a family, alright?”

Nodding, Hope smiled. “Okay, deal.”

With that agreement in mind, father and daughter looked for supplies in the kitchen to make a special breakfast. While Hope looked for eggs in the fridge, Louis started preparing the coffee maker. He knew Clem couldn’t begin the day without her morning cup of coffee, so he crunched a number of beans and added them to the machine’s filter.

The 9-year-old tugged at his green shirt from behind him and he turned. She looked up at him and smiled cheekily. That same smile he usually gave Clem when he was trying to cheer her up. “Will you help me up?” she asked.

He looked up at the top of the cupboard, where a jar of chocolate chip cookies lay. Omar had gifted those to Clem and Louis a week ago at the Ericson school gathering. _It was good seeing the gang together after so long_. When life started getting in the way, Clem and Louis had lost track of some of them for a while. They still got their Christmas cards every year, of course, but it wasn’t the same.

Violet and Minerva had recently invited them to their wedding, to everyone’s delight. Being his best friend, Violet and his soon-to-be wife were very often over for dinner at the Smith residence. “ _After seventeen years, you’d think they would have done it before us_ ,” Louis had joked, earning a slap on the shoulder from Vi.

“Sure, this is a special occasion after all,” Louis conceded. He took Hope by the waist, lifting her over his head and onto his shoulders. She loved it when he did that, she would always tell him; especially when he pretended to be a racecar when walking down the street back from school. Balancing on his shoulders, Hope took the jar between her small hands.

“Got it,” she called to him. He lowered her onto the floor and she set out to spread the cookies on a big platter.

Louis took the eggs from the counter and cracked them onto the frying pan by the stove. With a slow fire burning, he poured a little salt over them and started scrambling them the way his wife liked them.

“Hey, dad?” he heard Hope call from the table. She was taking out slices of bread to make toast, sliding them into the toaster while humming a tune.

“Yes, honey.”

“Do you think Santa’s real?” she asked, tilting her head.

Louis chuckled and nodded slowly. “Of course, sweetie,” he assured her, turning the nozzle of the stove. The fire rose slightly, and he shook the pan softly to scramble its contents. “You don’t?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “I tried staying up late last night to see him, but I fell asleep. I woke up in my bed, though, so he must have been there, right?” she added hopefully, making her father laugh.

“I was the one who carried you, actually,” he admitted. “Mom didn’t want you sleeping in the hall.”

“Oh, thanks, then,” said Hope, placing the final cookie on the platter. “Do you think these will be good?” she asked.

Louis turned and inspected the platter. The cookies were shaped like Christmas trees, little sprinkles symbolizing the lights. He noticed that most of them had his family’s initials. The chef had really outdone himself this time.

“If I know Omar at all, they’ll be the best damn cookies you’ve had in your life,” he declared. With a small shake of the frying pan, he slid the eggs onto a plate and looked back at the clock that hung over the kitchen door. Barely 8 o’clock. _We still have time,_ he thought. Clementine rarely woke up before nine whenever she got time off work.

“Swear,” his daughter whispered, frowning.

“Dang it,” he said, taking a nickel from his pocket and dropping into a jar labeled ‘Swear Jar’ that stood at the counter. They had started using the swear jar a little after Hope was born, mostly to control how much Clem cursed in front of their daughter. For such a sweet girl, she was oddly versed in swears and insults. “At this rate, we might be able to afford that trip to Disneyland you’ve been asking for.”

“Really?” the girl squealed, clapping excitedly.

Of course, he and Clementine had started planning that trip a few months back in preparation for Hope’s tenth birthday. Ever since Louis had promised Hope a trip to the Caribbean when she was five, Clem had forbidden him from telling their children about possible trips without actually planning them first.

They heard the distinctive ‘ding’ of the toaster, and Hope carefully took them out and placed them on another plate. She used the butter knife to spread some of her brother’s favorite cheese on them. Louis went to the fridge, taking the milk carton out and pouring some into two tall glasses. He placed one of them on the tray they were preparing and gave the other to Hope.

“Here you go, Princess.”

Thanking her father, she hungrily drank its contents. Louis watching her with a bemused expression. “Ahh,” she breathed when she was done, setting the glass on the table. When her father laughed, she frowned. “What is it?”

Without a word, he handed her a cloth and pointed to his own mouth. She looked down and chuckled when she saw a white mustache over her upper lip. Using the cloth, she wiped it off.

“For the record, I think yours is better than Grandpa Lee’s,” he complimented, making her smile.

Having exhausted all their breakfast options, father and daughter arranged the tray with the cookies and scrambled eggs. Taking a short sip from Clem’s coffee mug, he picked the tray up and they trekked to the staircase. Hope made it a point to tiptoe in the direction of her parents’ room, smiling back at Louis.

When they got to the door, she pressed a finger to her lips and pushed it open. Inside, the morning sun already shone on the master bed in the middle, the blinds not doing much to stop it. A few toys littered the floor beside the bed. On it, his wife and son slept soundly beneath the covers.

Clementine’s mouth was slightly open, deep breaths escaping her. Her left arm was tucked beneath the pillow, while her right hand lay motionless over the span of her body. Their son, Lee Junior, occupied the middle space of the bed. He was in a fetal position, his right hand reaching forward every now and then in search of his mother’s.

Louis walked forward and carefully set the tray on the bedside table on Clementine’s side. While he did that, Hope slid onto the bed and crawled toward the sleeping forms. The man sat down next to Clem and ran a hand through her curly hair. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her smiling and humming softly.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, running a thumb over her cheek.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly, and he found himself looking into her golden eyes. “Morning, handsome,” she whispered back, placing her right hand over his.

“Mommy!” Hope squealed, unable to contain herself anymore. “Merry Christmas.”

Clementine rolled over and beamed at the girl. Hope’s smile could have lit up the entire room. Her mother sat up, leaning back on the headboard of the bed. “Merry Christmas, sweet pea.”

“We made you breakfast,” said Hope, gesturing to the tray on the table. Clem turned and blinked when she spotted the delicacies her husband and daughter had concocted.

Sensing her slumber, Louis quickly took the coffee mug and placed it in Clementine’s hand. She thanked him and slowly took a sip, breathing deeply when the hot substance reached her throat. She looked to her right and gently shook LJ’s shoulder.

“Lee,” she said, earning a groan from the six-year-old. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled, pulling the covers father up.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to eat these toasts with cheese all by myself,” Louis quipped, taking a small bite from one of them. LJ immediately sat up at that statement, blinking rapidly.

“There’s toast?” he asked, making the other three chuckle.

His father handed him a plateful of toast and his glass of milk. He thanked Louis and promptly dug into the first toast. Louis placed the tray over Clem, pushing the plate of scrambled eggs closer to her.

“You guys made all this?” she asked.

“Hope here wanted to surprise you, so we got up early,” Louis explained, taking a cookie from the platter and biting into it. “Holy crap, these are amazing.”

“Swear,” Hope and LJ said in unison, making Louis roll his eyes.

“That’s the second time today,” he complained, “I’m running out of nickels.”

“Then don’t swear,” Clem suggested cheekily, taking a spoonful of eggs into her mouth.

“You’re one to talk,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

Clem feigned offense, gasping dramatically. “Whatever do you mean? I am a delight to talk to.”

“Sure you are,” Louis teased, handing his daughter a cookie and taking another bite of his.

The family laughed together, continuing on with their breakfast. LJ told Louis all about the presents he’d asked from Santa, emphasizing which ones he’d rather get over the others. Louis and Clem shared a look over his head in silent conspiracy. Omar’s cookies quickly disappeared, leaving only a trail of crumbs over the platter and covers.

When their morning snacks ran out, LJ and Hope demanded they go downstairs and open the presents. Clem agreed, but not before asking them to get dressed. The children sprinted at full speed toward their respective rooms, leaving the adults to clean up after them. While Louis, who was already dressed, took the tray downstairs, Clementine put on some comfy pants and a sweater gifted to her by Minerva.

Five minutes later, mother and children entered the living room, where Louis was already waiting for them sat on the loveseat. The Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room, its green and red lights flashing every few seconds. Small red orbs decorated it on all sides and a start stood atop it.

At the base of the tree were a few wrapped boxes and bags. As soon as the children spotted those, they ran towards it, inspecting the tags in search of their presents. While they embarked on the gift hunt, Clem sat gingerly on Louis’s lap, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. With their hands adjoined, he ran a thumb over her palm, watching their kids joyfully rip apart wrapping paper.

“A camera!” LJ exclaimed, holding in his hands an old Polaroid camera. He inspected it curiously, turning it in his hands. “Wait, what is this?”

Clementine chuckled, looking at Louis. “That’s a Polaroid camera. You take a photo, and the camera prints it automatically.”

“Really?” he asked excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. He used his present to take his first photo, the flash almost blinding Clem and Louis.

“Hey,” Louis exclaimed, rubbing his eyes. “Remember when I had corneas?”

LJ looked on in fascination as the camera made a soft whirring sound and a printed version of his photo came out of a slot at its base. He took it out and looked at it, frowning. “It’s black.”

“You gotta shake it, honey,” Clem explained. He did as she said, and gasped when the film suddenly gained color. He handed Louis the picture, and the couple smiled at it. They looked very warm in the loveseat, both smiling at each other and the fireplace burning in the background.

“You’re gonna be a great photographer,” Louis assured him, ruffling his hair.

“Oh my god,” they heard Hope exclaim. “A stationary set! I love it!”

In her hands, she was holding what looked like a large box. On the top, the legend read ‘Scholastic Stationary Set’. She set it on the ground, carefully untying the little string that held the lid shut. Inside were dozens of coloring pencils, organized by color. The box itself had small retractable shelves, where more drawing supplies were stowed. Her fingers traced the contents, unable to contain her smile.

Their son approached them on the loveseat, a small lace box with a red bow on top of it in his hands. He handed it to Clem, who raised an eyebrow. “This one’s yours, mom.”

She took it, eyeing Louis from the corner of her eye. He was smiling smugly at her, beckoning her to open the present Santa had brought her. With nimble fingers, she removed the bow and slowly opened the box. Inside was a beautiful silver necklace. She gasped, gently taking the chain and lifting it in front of her.

“Wow,” she breathed. It had three charms attached to it, all of them bathed in gold. They were small letters, symbolizing her husband and children.

“L, H and LJ,” she read, tears welling in her eyes. “Honey, this is beautiful,” she whispered to Louis as the kids lost interest and went back to their presents.

“You are beautiful,” he countered, making her blush. Taking the necklace from her hand, he said, “May I?”

She nodded and turned, scooping up her hair as he carefully slipped the chain around her neck. He clasped it and gave her the all clear. Clem looked down, marveling at the small charms.

“The letters are obviously us,” he explained, gesturing to himself and the kids on the floor. “And the gold represents your eyes.”

“I – I love it, Louis,” she breathed, leaning in and locking their lips in a tender kiss, her hand rested on his heart.

“I actually wanted to give it to you for our anniversary,” he admitted when they broke apart, a lopsided grin on his face. “But I couldn’t wait any longer,” he shrugged.

“Too bad, now you gotta get me something else next month,” she teased, smirking.

Louis chuckled, fingering her necklace gently and running his thumb over the charms. “I’ll be happy to.”

“Mom, dad!” Hope interrupted them, her brother beside her.

“Yes, Sunshine?” Louis inquired in a pompous accent, making Hope roll her eyes.

“Can LJ and I go outside and make snow angels?” she begged, balancing herself on the balls of her feet. Clem and Louis shared a look and agreed, on the condition that they’d be there too.

The children immediately ran off toward the backyard, once again leaving the adults to their devices. They got up, adjusting their coats, and walked toward the back door. Clem excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Louis went alone to check on the children

When he got outside, Hope and LJ were already strewn on the ground, their arms and legs flailing around wildly. He stood by the door, leaning against a post and smiling to himself. When Hope threw some snow to her left at her brother, Louis heard his son squeal in laughter.

“Hope, don’t be rough with your brother,” he called out in mock seriousness, getting a faceful of snow in return. He raised his arms in defeat, yelling, “I yield! I yield!”

His children laughed and went back to their business, inspecting each other’s snow angels and making small adjustments were adjustments were due. Hope’s ended up having a small crown over its head, while Hope herself drew a face on LJ’s, accenting his nose a bit too much.

“I don’t look like that, Hope,” he complained, frowning.

“You do too,” she teased, shoving him slightly.

LJ pretended to fall, and when his sister went down to help him he jammed a snowball in her face. The six-year-old took off into the yard, hiding behind a tree when a snowball from Hope nearly grazed his head. As they prepared to engage in a battle to the death, Louis heard a small grunt coming from behind him.

He turned around and chuckled when he spotted his wife standing on tiptoes, trying to hold a clove of mistletoe over his head. Her nose was red from the cold, and her eyes were squinted in concentration. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“What you doing there, beautiful?” he inquired.

“I was trying to be romantic,” she explained, lowering her arm.

“But you’re too short?” he suggested, earning a slap on the shoulder. He chuckled, placing his hand on her waist and pulling her closer. “I love the gesture nonetheless.”

He leaned down, capturing her lips in his. He ran his hand through her hair, his left hand placed on the small of her back. They pulled apart, glancing back at the kids, who were still engrossed in their snowball fight. Apparently, Hope was winning but LJ had more ‘style points’, whatever those were.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her on the forehead softly.

“I love you too,” she said, taking her left arm from behind her back and presenting him with a small wrapped box. He gaped at it, looking between his wife and the gift.

“I thought we weren’t doing presents this year,” he said, tilting his head.

“Well, I guess we both broke that promise,” she argued, shrugging.

“Touché.”

He took the small box in his hands and gingerly undid the knot on top. Ripping the paper carefully, he now held in his hand a miniature version of a piano, its lid held up by a very small prop. “This… This is amazing, Clem,” he exclaimed, looking into her golden eyes.

“Look closer,” she whispered, grinning. He did as she asked, squinting when he spotted a small carving over the keys of the miniature piano. Though it was tiny, he could clearly make out what it was.

_C + L, surrounded by a heart._

He remembered that memory as if it had been yesterday. It was shortly after they’d met in high school. He had a major crush on her at the time, so he’d arranged with one of the assistants for her to be called to the music room of the school for a ‘special assignment’. Being the leader of the school band had its perks, he’d decided that day.

After he’d poured his soul out to her, when he felt weakest, she’d miraculously confessed her feelings for him. _She kissed him first, too!_ He would always remember the moment they decided to commemorate the moment by carving their initials into the school’s piano. _“Hmm, there’s something missing,”_ she’d said, scratching her chin.

 _“What is it?”_ he’d replied, too dumbfounded to formulate coherent thoughts.

Without saying a word, she’d used his pocket knife to carve a heart around their initials, surprising even herself. Of course, he used that story for their vows at their wedding, barely five years later. He would always treasure that memory.

“It’s been fifteen years since we’ve been together,” she began, clearly remembering previously rehearsed lines. He loved when she tried being romantic and fumbled for words; clearly not her strong suit. She’d almost gone crazy thinking about what to say in her wedding vows, she had confessed to him on their honeymoon.

“And not one day goes by when I ask myself what I did to deserve such a loving, caring person,” she continued, loosening significantly as the words rolled sweetly off her tongue. “I asked Mitch to carve this for me, to remind you of that every time you look at it.” Tears had begun to sting his eyes, his lower lip quivering.

He wasted no time in pressing his lips to her again, trying hard to convey as much love into the embrace as possible. When they broke apart once more, their breathing was labored and their eyes shone with small tears. “I love you, Clementine.”

“I love you too,” she replied, lifting her arm again so the mistletoe was again in between them. Louis looked up at it, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Merry Christmas, indeed,” he said, obeying the mistletoe and planting yet another kiss on his wife’s lips.


End file.
